


lonely closet

by dip_dyed_ghost



Category: Concerned Children's Advertisers "House Hippo" PSA Commercial, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cute Pet, Fluff, House Hippo - Freeform, Kinda Crack but not really?, M/M, Understanding, animal specialist!Phil, house hippo host!Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dip_dyed_ghost/pseuds/dip_dyed_ghost
Summary: Dan’s house hippo is acting up, and Phil is the animal specialist he enlists for help.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	lonely closet

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't know what a house hippo is, please please bless your day by clicking [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBfi8OEz0rA) link. i watched the commercial for the first time as a child, and i can't even explain how excited little dumbass me was until the advertisers were all like 'sike! no cool tiny pet for you.'

The pitter-patter of its little feet always remind him of his childhood home.

Dan was lucky to have one growing up, as not all kids had that chance - The National House Hippo Association estimates that only one in every four houses will have a house hippo at some point. The one in his old home was timid, as most of them are, preferring to spend its 16 hours sleeping hidden away from the world (the other eight sneaking around without being seen), and so his family barely got to witness it. It seemed that the only proof of its existence were the nests of dryer lint and string made in closets and beneath the couch, not to mention how any and all crumbs seem to disappear without them having to sweep anything up. 

His mom found it a nuisance. It was always scaring the family dog, spilling the water bowl, and stealing her mittens that she would have to go out and buy again and again. Dan thought that if maybe she could see it as often as he did, she would grow to like it. Their house hippo could be another loveable family pet.

Dan was pleasantly surprised to figure out early-on that it didn't only like crisps, raisins, and crumbs from peanut butter on toast; it also quite enjoyed saltine crackers. He had to start eating a lot of soup to cover-up why their stock was going down so fast.

And so, every night before bed, he would crush up a dozen or so crackers into bite-size pieces and leave a trail of them in his bedroom closet, being sure not to go near any nests - two mini ones lived near the back and looked like upside down pom-pom hats - as he knew that they could get quite defensive. In return, it personally brought him pebbles and safety pins and whatever tiny objects it could find, holding them oh-so-gently in its mouth before laying them at Dan's feet. 

He liked his house hippo. It was like a little friend.

Too bad the one in his current flat doesn't seem to like him much.

"You said...It's eating your socks?"

The man on the phone sounds confused. After Dan lost fifth pair of socks, among other things - such as a few phone cables, his hair straightener, and, inexplicably, his entire stash of tide pods - he decided it was time for action. He found a number advertising in the paper as the 'local animal and house hippo expert' and called it without much hope.

"Yes," Dan replies, staring at the ground. His left foot is socked while his right one is bare without its pair. 

The guy hums. Dan hopes he's as much of an expert as he advertises, because he was really excited when he found the nest in his new flat. The non-human companionship a house hippo could offer was a comfort when he was still new to town; how lovely it would be, to have a creature that would be with him and yet never judge him. Dan was hoping for one with everything he had. Now that he has one, though, he can't help but want it and its failed trust in him to leave him alone. Preferably by retiring to the closet and never crossing his path again.

"That's unusual," the expert muses. "Typically, they prefer to go for toes. "

"They _what_?"

There's shuffling down the line. "No, no, ah- I don't mean to alarm. They just like to nibble sometimes, you know?"

"Right," Dan says. "Right." He folds his legs up close to him on the couch.

“And you said you’re feeding him? Giving him ample nesting ground, and the materials for it?”

Dan thinks back to the mittens he bought just for his house hippo for his nest. "Unless something else is taking all my stuff, I'd say so, yeah."

The man asks him more questions - how often he sees it, if there's any reflections for it to look at, if it's ever bared its teeth at Dan. He answers them all. There's a certain type of scattering to the way the man says things, details he doesn't need to add squeezed in and little laughs at himself when he doesn't understand something. Dan's normally not fond of phone calls, but he finds himself not minding this one. It doesn't fell like pulling out teeth like it usually does. 

After everything is answered, the guy sounds like he's at a loss.

"Unless I can see him - is it a him? - I don't think I'll be much help." At least he sounds apologetic. "They're complex creatures. Wonderful, amazing beings, but quite fickle, too."

Dan sighs. He doesn't want some stranger to come poke around in his flat, no matter how much he enjoys their voice.

"How much?" he asks, resigned, figuring he at least owes it to his little roommate to get him checked out.

The man, who's apparently called Phil, gives him a sum, and in return Dan tells him his address. He's to be there two days from now at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. In the meantime, Dan is to avoid contact with his house hippo and continue feeding it as usual, noting any strange or unusual behaviours.

When the day of reckoning comes, Dan is sat on his couch, the bottom of his computer warming his thighs and slowly encouraging his cells to mutate. Its tiny fans whir and thrum. Outside, there's a chill to the wetness, puddles splashing up every time a foot or a wheel dares pass through one, raindrops racing down his window panes and the cool humidity making his hair to go all hobbit on him, ruining any sort of good impression he was planing on giving this Phil guy. 

Five knocks tapped out in a beat pull him out of his tumblr spiral.

Dan opens the door and finds someone he would not expect to be an animal expert. For some reason, he was picturing a person sporting a light khaki button-up with matching pants, maybe even a hat that wouldn't make sense in this part of the world. Instead, before him is a guy around his age, wearing a colourful windbreaker that looks like it's been dipped in a pool, a messenger bag slung around his shoulder, and blue converse that squeak as he shifts his weight.

"Hi," Phil says, eyes bright. "Sorry about the water, the clouds are really leaking today."

Dan blinks. “Don’t worry about it," he replies. He motions him inside and shows him where he can put his coat. “It can be a slip and slide for the little guy."

Phil smiles. "I bet he'd love that." He takes off his bag and jacket off to reveal a white graphic tee underneath, a black inked hedgehog decorating the front. There’s more designs underneath it, some kind of flowers, the fabric dipping and folding every time he moves. Phil crouches down on one knee and unties his shoelaces. "Where is he, anyway?"

“Probably hiding in the closet.” Dan has to physically restrain himself from making a joke and adding something like _same_ or _relatable_. Instead, he tries to flatten his curls, the puffiness resisting him every step of the way. "He prefers the one in my bedroom, I think," Dan adds, finally letting his hand drop and giving up on looking presentable. 

"Even that tells us something," Phil says, standing up. He slings his bag back over his shoulder. 

“Oh?"

He shrugs. "Different types prefer different things."

Dan chooses that moment to take in the fact that Phil's not bad looking. He's got those blue eyes that pop in contrast with his black hair, clear skin that's paler than his own, and he might even be as tall as Dan. 

Just his type. 

Dan clears his throat. "Right, well, he's this way if you want to see him."

Phil follows him down the hall. Dan has never been so self-conscious of what his flat looks like. There's nothing like adding in an outside pair of eyes that makes him see everything in here from a new light - the glass coffee table he was excited to find is no longer classy, but rather pretentious, and the posters of various shows and movies in the den suddenly seem childish. He has a few pictures hung up in the hall, some with his brother and others with his nan, all from years ago when he was still a child, snapshots of a time when he used to dread bedtime because being awake was still fun. Phil slows his walk.

"Cute," he says, nodding up at a photo of him and Adrian when they were probably around 3 and 9, where Dan was trying read him a picture book with him sat on his lap. Dan knows Phil means it as in 'cute kids,' but that doesn't help the slight flare of heat rising in his cheeks, and he speeds his walk to get them out of there.

His bedroom door is already half open, so Dan knocks into it with his hip as he steps inside. A quick scan later and he concludes that there's nothing too incriminating out in the open, which takes some of the edge off. It's practically empty anyway, just some furniture and the necessary things on it - a computer on his desk, a lamp on his night table, sheet music propped up above his piano. 

Dan goes to stand by the closet door and says, "I'm like 99% sure he's burrowed in there somewhere. He usually honks at me if I open it while he's sleeping, which, fair."

Phil approaches the door. He knocks once, then quickly puts his ear on the door. "Do you have a cup I could use?"

"A cup?"

"Yeah, just a glass one should do." He takes his ear off the door to look at Dan. "To help me hear,” he explains.

Dan leaves Phil there in search of one. Much to his dismay, most of his cups are in the dishwasher. He rummages at the very back of his cupboard before his fingers catch on something cool and glossy. It's big enough to be a vase. 

Phil doesn't mention it, just accept the glass made for giants with a 'thank you' and promptly joins his ear to the door with it. He knocks again, and waits.

Dan shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. What Phil said to him earlier rises in his mind.

"What does it mean to have a bedroom-closet-dwelling house hippo?" he asks, after one of Phil's knocks.

Phil adjusts the glass to a lower position before answering. "It means they're introverted. Less likely to antagonize the cat." He crouches and listens to the bottom of the closet. "Mine's an introvert, too. Takes after her daddy." 

Phil cringes rather dramatically after he says it, and Dan huffs a laugh. 

"Does she, now?" he teases. “Me too, actually - people can get to be a bit much.”

"Groups are the worst," Phil adds.

"Really?" Dan tilts his head. "I like them a lot better than one-on-one." There's a higher chance that someone will like him, or at the very least find some of his jokes funny.

"You're one-on-one with me right now," Phil points out, and if Dan isn't mistaken, the way his voice lilts, smoother and more drawn out than before, sounds a bit like...flirting? But, no. He must be hearing what he wants to. "How are you holding up?" Phil asks.

Dan leans back against the wall beside the closet. "Not bad, actually. The last person in here was a repairman who grunted every time he moved, so you're definitely a step up."

"Oh." Phil looks around the room, like he's going to find physical signs of wear and tear. "Flat's having problems?" 

"Not anymore. That was months ago. Fixed it right up."

Dan doesn't realize he's said too much until Phil looks at him strangely. It doesn't click right away, but when it does, he wants to bash his head against the wall. Way to broadcast that he doesn't have any friends.

"Found anything yet?" Dan asks quickly. Phil stops giving him a calculating look, for which he is grateful, and instead stands up, cup held securely in his hands. His answering smile is the littlest bit sad.

"I think so." 

Phil hands Dan the cup and grabs the closet knob. He pulls it open gently, the sliver of light from the room growing and expanding to shine on everything inside. Tiny particulars of dust kitties float through the air. Phil's nose twitches like a rabbit. Tides of black clothes have washed up on the floor, curling and crashing into other items, such as pair of dark boots and a rumpled calendar from last year, forming such a stark background that it's easy to notice the grey nest built off to the left, all soft and fluffy and homely. 

Smack dab in the middle of it is Dan's house hippo.

To his surprise, he's awake, beady black eyes open and blinking up at them. He looks so tiny nestled in there, it's little ears spinning backwards one at a time and ruffling the air. He's about the size of a guinea pig but with a lot more weigh to him, a heavy purple guy who could rival a child's bowling ball. 

Phil makes little kissy noises at him. He lifts his head. 

Buried deep in Phil’s messenger bag is some type of food, which he retrieves without breaking eye contact. It crinkles as he grabs it, beige squares stacked up inside thick, semi-transparent plastic, and Dan feels a jolt when he realizes what they are.

"You know about the crackers, too," Dan says softly, not willing to disturb whatever's going on.

Phil takes one out and places it on the floor in front of his shoe. "It's part of my research I'm doing for this documentary I'm filming. Dealing with 'the mysteries of the house hippo.'" he changes his voice as he says it, spreading his hands out like it's a title of great awe. "Speaking of," he says, suddenly becoming less theatric, hands dropping and body turning towards Dan, "do you mind if I film a few shots? I don't quite have enough footage yet for it to be a full picture."

"Sure," Dan says. "Knock yourself out." He watches as Phil takes a camera out from his bag, a nice sleek one with a professional feel. "Just so you know, though, he doesn't like crackers. I've tried it before."

Phil takes the lens cover off. "Maybe he just needs another hand."

He squats and balances on the balls of his feet, finding a good angle before pressing record. It takes a minute or so of them standing there in silence, but eventually his hippo stands up on shaking legs, thick toothpicks that help it exit the nest and start venturing out. It beelines for the cracker, sniffs it once, twice, and then promptly falls on it with its open mouth. Phil chuckles.

"Aw, there you go little bud," he says, voice high-pitched and sweet, the kind that people use to address their pets. "That's a good boy, yeah, there you go.” 

Phil places the camera on the floor and takes out a second cracker. Instead of putting it down, he holds it out low in the palm of his hand, like an offering. Dan knows there's no way he's going to go for it - his hippo is too wary around people, too scared and defensive. 

His hippo doesn't even hesitate. He bounces straight up to Phil, the second cracker snapping and crunching once it's in his large jaw.

Dan's mouth drops open. "How come he's like that with you?" he exclaims, gesturing at the absurdity. Months have went into trying to earn this kind of trust. _Months_. And yet this guy just waltzes in with his kind voice and his stupid eyes who succeeds in a matter of fucking minutes.

Phil adjusts to sit on his knees. His hand comes to rest on the hippo's head, who immediately tries to nuzzle further into his touch, all but trying to climb into his palm. He gives it a few pets, thumb stroking its side like it's something worth loving. 

"There's this theory I'm working on," Phil says softly, slowly, still petting. "It's not proven or anything, but I have strong reason to believe it's true. House hippos...they don't come out of nowhere." He stops himself. "Well, they do, but what they're like isn't predetermined. They take after their hosts."

Dan watches as his house hippo sits contently under Phil's touch. "What's that mean, exactly?"

"Happy, healthy people make happy, healthy hippos,” he says. Phil rushes to look at him. Panic suddenly fills his form. "I don't mean to imply anything. Or to offend. Something else could be going on."

“Like what?” 

Phil waves his non-petting hand in circles, like he’s trying to catch an answer. “Like…something. There could be more to it. " 

He avoids looking at Dan as he says it, and Dan gets the idea that Phil doesn't believe that. "Might as well tell me what you actually think,” he says. He couches down to their level. "I do care about him, you know. Even if he keeps stealing all of my stuff. If I can help him, I will."

Phil seems to ponder this, worrying his lip between his teeth. He takes a breath. “House hippos…if they're sad, or lonely, or...depressed, they withdraw. They act out and hide away. They steal objects because they want attention, action.” Phil looks to him, and Dan's blown away by the kindness he finds there, voice soft and full of empathy. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?”

_They take after their hosts._

"You think I'm those things," Dan realizes. Phil's looking at him like he understands, like it's okay, and it’s nearly too much, this guy he barely knows naming what he struggles with and offering something other than judgement.

Dan laughs nervously. “No need to call me out or anything.” Before he can continue, Phil cuts him off. 

“I have a solution."

Dan gives him a bittersweet look. “And what's that?”

Phil pulls his hand back, and Dan’s hippo mewls in protest. “There’s a movie I’ve been wanting to see that’s on tonight.” He clears his throat, then continues. “I don’t suppose…maybe you’d like to see it with me?” 

Dan doesn’t quite process what he’s just been asked. “Sorry?”

“You don't have to,” Phil rushes to add. “Your hippo will adapt and get better with time. Having someone for you to spend time with will speed up the process…but, I have to admit, my motivations are more selfish than that."

“What’s selfish about them?”

“Honestly?” He glances around the room. “Just from being in here, I can tell you’re my kind of person. Like, you have a chair shaped like a butt over there, what even.” His voice quiets, and he says in one quick breath, "you're also quite fit. Can't lie about that.”

A smile cracks open on Dan’s face. “Wait.” Something like hope swells in his chest. “You asking me on a date?"

Phil’s eyes flicker down, then back up. “Depends. Would you say yes?”

“I would.”

Phil smiles as Dan’s house hippo tries to climb his leg to get his attention. “How’s 7 work for you?”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3
> 
> my [tumblr](https://dip-dyed-ghost.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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